Caring for the Redneck
by Confinedloner
Summary: Both stared speechless at the scene. Arron knew, both Arron and Daryl came off as assholes. The redneck trash that didn't follow the rules, whom didn't care about anything at all, except they did care. They had feelings, too. May turn into a MC/Daryl. Not sure yet
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, so I had an idea for the sequel of Before Times Itself. I couldn't stop thinking about it. You don't need to read the other story to understand. I'm gonna try catching you up. If you still feel lost then go for it but I can't promise it'll help much. It's only on chapter 3 right now._

 _Don't own Walking Dead, but I do own Arron. I'm gonna try and make this a Yaoi or MC(Male character)/Daryl, but its so slow going I don't know if it'll happen._

 _~Loner  
_

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Arron liked to play hide and go seek with Daryl sometimes. He'd been doing it since Merle started teaching the kid how to hunt. It helped keep Daryl on his toes, his friend always said. Of course, Daryl always went out to look for him to. Daryl always went out to look for Arron, even when the world was ending. His little brother just couldn't stand being away from Arron for longer than a week before the dead decided to come back. Now, though, Daryl couldn't seem to be away from the man even for a few hours before the kid retreated into one of his moods.

Merle wasn't surprised when he woke to the sound of Arron shuffling about their tent, trying to ease out of Daryl's grip on the other man's shirt. "Ya know, he ain't gonna be happy when 'e wakes up ta find ya gone 'gain," Merle said, quietly, not wanting to wake the kid but not quietly enough to make it seem like he cared one way or the other.

Arron paused in unbuttoning his wrinkled dress shirt to give Merle a mysterious smile over Daryl's head. "Ah," the man whispered, "but that's the point." Arron glanced at Daryl's sleeping face to make sure the kid was still sleeping before going back to the last few buttons on his shirt. Merle knew Arron only wore the shirt so he could slip away. He'd noticed his friend had taken to sleeping in only button downs since Daryl had started clinging to Arron in his sleep. "'E's just so adorable when 'e's angry and worried. I can't help myself," Arron finished as he slowly wiggled out of his shirt.

Merle shook his head at his friend's antics. His friend had changed a lot over the years. Where he had once looked like the upper mid-classed pretty boy, Arron, now, looked more like death warmed over. The man's once childish face had lost the baby fat, reviling high cheek bones and a strong jaw line. A deep scar ran across the man's cheek, running up from just underneath Arron's jaw bone, up and over the width of his cheek, narrowly missing the man's ever changing gray eyes by less than half a centimeter. Seeing that scar almost made Merle feel guilty, but, then, Merle would remember he hadn't asked Arron to move in front of his father's swinging belt. It was Arron's fault his face was fucked up, not Merle's.

Even though, his friend wore a black long sleeved t-shirt to bed, even in the Georgian heat, Merle knew there were more scars along his for arms, a few on his chest and an occasional one on the man's back. There were more scars on Arron's body, now, than there were before Merle left for the Military, and, even though his friend never said anything, Merle knew exactly where they came from. He knew exactly why they were there, and it was both saddening and uplifting. Sad, because Arron could only have gotten them from standing in the way of the weapon threatening his 'precious people,' as Arron called them. Uplifting, because the only 'precious people' Arron had were Merle and Daryl, which meant Merle could trust Arron to take care of his little brother if anything were to happen to Merle himself.

"'M planning on joining the group goin' out on a run, taday," Merle muttered, watching Arron pull on a simi-clean T-shirt over his long sleeves. At the other man's blank look, Merle continued, "I gotta get more o' the good shit. 'M almost out."

Arron sighed, a disapproving look fluttering over his features. "You really should stop taking that shit." By shit, Arron really meant the coke cane or whatever drug Merle was using to get higher than a kite on these days.

"Can't," Merle scowled at his friend, "Not if I don't wanna go through withdraw. It'll get us killed."

"I could watch over us jus' fine," Arron muttered as he shoved his left leg into his jeans with a force born out of irritation.

"'S not 'bout weather you can or can't." Merle was getting upset now. It was too early to be having this argument again. "Look," Merle growled quietly, just remembering his sleeping baby brother, "I'm goin' an' that's that!"

Arron sighed again, giving up. Merle was a stubborn ass, and everyone knew it. Merle would do what Merle did best. Arron knew that, he just wished Merle wasn't good at fooling himself. "Fine," Arron said in defeat, "Fine. Tell the kid I'm waiting on him."

When Arron left the tent in his usual morning huff, Merle let the small grin slowly lift the corners of his mouth. Then again, Merle mussed as he flopped back on his back, content to wait until dawn before getting up, Arron was still the same little kid who tried his hardest to protect his only two friends. Merle looked over at his sleeping companion. Daryl would be fine without him. Merle knew Arron would take care of his kid brother. The guy had been doing it for years. Merle reached out, gently smoothing a frown line on his brother's forehead. The kid always knew, on some unconscious level, when Arron left the room.

"Pa…" His little brother muttered in his sleep, frown lines deepened for a second before his brother turned his face away from Merle, settling into sleep again.

"No, kiddo," Merle muttered as he watched, his own frown lines deepened. Merle hated when Daryl called Arron pa. It wasn't Arron's fault, he supposed, but it made him want to punch the man, nonetheless. For some reason, the way Daryl said it made Merle think dirty thoughts about his friend and Daryl. Probably didn't help that Merle knew exactly what kind of sick play his friend was into. "Arron's out hiding again." Merle was only ever gentle when he was sure no one was watching and only ever with his little brother. Only person who knew Merle wasn't all mean and green was Arron, and that was only because they had been friends for such a long time.

Daryl was gone by the time Merle came back to their half of the camp. It didn't surprise Merle in the slightest. He was used to it by now, and it was exactly what he had been counting on when he started back towards their camp site. He even made sure to take the time to be extra annoying to the others in the main camp just to give Daryl time to move out. Merle didn't want to have to deal with the kid when he started digging through Arron's stuff, looking for anything useful. It was probably the only thing Daryl had the balls to argue with him over. Merle didn't see what the point was. It wasn't like Arron was going to use all of it, and, as long as Arron didn't notice it gone, who cares if Merle took it. Unfortunately, Daryl didn't see it that way.

"Damn, Arron and his stupid morals," Merle grumbled as he dug through Arron's lovingly named 'Ninja Bag,' "Rubbin' off on mah li'le bro'her. Ow!" Merle pulled his hand back, sticking the bleeding fingertip into his mouth. Damn, throwing star thingy, Merle mentally growled as he went back to digging with his other hand. Eventually, Merle settled on a lock picking kit and a few throwing knives. "Never know when you'll need to get through a locked door." He shoved the items in his boot. They were just small enough fit, and if he lifted his foot out of the boot enough he could slip the lock picking set underneath his foot. It'd be a bitch to walk on, but Merle was nothing, if not resilient. It was a little awkward at first, but Merle quickly forgot it as he climbed into the van.

He glared at the black man he was forced to sit next to. This was going to be a long day.

Daryl liked playing Arron's strange game of hide and go seek. It was both fun and challenging. Arron never made it easy on him. It seemed like Arron was pulling out all the stops this morning too, Daryl noticed as he once again came to another dead end. Daryl scowled, first looking up at the trees, just to make sure Arron hadn't climbed one. Then, when he found no trace of the man, Daryl slowly retraced the foot prints back a few steps. Daryl was a good tracker, but even he had to admit Arron was stealthy. He chalked it up to his pa's obsession with Ninjas.

Daryl really didn't have time for this, today. The camp was running low on meat again. Arron should be out here helping him catch food, not playing around. At the same time, though, Daryl couldn't focus on hunting until he found his pa, who he was sure was watching him somewhere nearby. "God damn it, Pa," Daryl growled as he stomped around, scaring wildlife, looking for the man who practically raised him. "We don't have time for this!" Daryl snapped, looking up in the canopy of trees again.

"Ah, but we do," Arron grinned, popping out of nowhere behind Daryl.

Daryl jumped letting out a startled yelp. "What tha hell, man?!" Daryl snapped as he whipped around, "Don' do tha'! I could shoot you!"

Arron just held his sting of squirrels up in Daryl's fuming face. "Lookie what I caught," Arron chirped, happily ignoring Daryl's dark glare. When Arron finally took a moment to look Daryl over, he noticed Daryl's empty hunting string. "Say…" Arron trailed off, eyes trailing back up to Daryl's eyes, "where are yours?" He asked, fighting off a knowing grin. It was difficult, but Arron managed.

Daryl felt like throwing his hands up in frustration. "I was lookin' fer you!" He growled, darkly.

Arron gave Daryl a confused look, even though he wanted nothing more than to laugh. "Wha'da ya mean looking for me?" He asked, "I've been behind you the whole time. Thought you knew that." Arron hadn't really been behind him. Not until Daryl started back tracking his tracks. He'd originally been up ahead behind one of the many bushes Daryl hadn't given any thought to look behind.

"Nah, ya weren't!" Daryl scowled at the older man. "I looked!"

"Obviously, you didn't," Arron insisted, "Or you would have seen me standing here." Arron watched Daryl go into his rant. It reminded him of when Daryl was a kid, raving and stomping. Arron found it all very enduring. It was good to know not everything in the world had changed.

"Ya can't just go runnin' off like that!" Daryl snarled at Arron, "Not without tellin' someone!"

Arron smiled at the shorter man, "Ah, but I did." Arron reached out, gently cupping the back of Daryl's neck. He couldn't hold back the urge to touch the kid even if he wanted to. "Told Merle." He watched the faint, so faint anyone else would have missed it, blush flutter across Daryl's cheeks. "Can't help it if he didn't tell you."

Daryl fidgeted, both uncomfortable and hot at the same time. Only his pa had this effect on him, ever since he was a teen with his first crush. Daryl bit his lip, looking away from Arron. Suddenly, Daryl didn't feel all that angry at the man. He never could say angry with Arron, especially when the other man had his hands on him.

"Come on," Arron said after Daryl had calmed down, "I think, I saw some deer tracks back that way." Arron hitched his thumb towards the right of them, the string of squirrels hanging from his curled fingers.

Daryl nodded, silently disappointed when Arron's hand slipped from his neck. "'M still mad at ya," he said in an oddly dejected voice.

"You always are, love."

"Stop callin' me tha,'" Daryl scowled, even though there was no bite to it. Arron thought the kid liked being shown affection. If the blush and subtle shift of his body was anything to go on, Arron was right in his assumption.

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl exclaimed, jumping down from the bolder, "That's my dear."

Arron followed after him. He took a moment to look around at the group gathered around the headless walker and its dinner. Daryl may not have noticed the looks and quick lowering of weapons, but Arron did. Arron also noticed the new face half hiding behind the self-proclaimed leader of the camp, Shane. Hell-o, Arron thought as he focused on the new face, and who might you be? Arron looked the guy over. From what he could see from around Shane's fat ass, the guy was awkwardly moving towards the back of the group, yet sticking to the outer rims just in case he was needed for some reason or another.

"Calm down, son," the old guy Arron never learned the name to said quietly. "That's not going to helpin.'"

There was something in that statement that made both Daryl and Arron bristle up. Daryl, never the one to pass up an opportunity to cause trouble, rounded the deer and got up in the old man's face. "What do you know about it? Huh, old man? Why don't you take your dumb hat and go back to 'golden pon.''"

Arron, who had moved a little closer to the group as Daryl made his little speech, chuckled lightly. Daryl never was as good as his bother when it came to insults. Seeing Daryl practically strut away after the comment just made him laugh louder. The kid always knew how to be dramatic, he suppose, ignoring the rest of the group as he watched Daryl pull out his arrows from the useless deer carcass.

"What do you think?" Daryl asked no one in particular. "Think we can cut around it?"

"I ain't eating that," Shane stated, deadpan, face blank of all emotion.

"Damn shame," Daryl said, tucking his arrows away.

"Waste of resources," Arron said, speaking up for the first time since he happened upon the scene. Though, for the zombie, it wasn't wasted at all.

Daryl nodded. "Still got some squirrel," Daryl pointed out, shifting his hunting rope, "About a dozen or so." The kid looked around the group looking for approval. No one but Arron noticed. When Daryl's nervous eyes landed on his, practically begging for acknowledgement, Arron gave him a faint smile and nod of approval. Daryl's eyes shifted back to the group, his stance a little more relaxed than when he first happen on the group and their walker. "It's just gonna have to do." Honestly, Arron thought the others should just be thankful for whatever meat Daryl caught them.

Suddenly, one of the blonde women, half hiding behind a shrub, gave a little squeak. Both Arron and Daryl turned to, both their eye's following the skittish girl's sight to the snapping walker head rolling around on the ground. "Seriously?" Arron wondered if he should do something or just let the head be. As it turns out, Arron's worries were for nothing.

"Tha hell, people?" Daryl had already shot the head through the eye, by the time he had finish his statement. "It's gotta be the brain." Then he stalked off towards camp, muttering one last insult, "Don't ya know nothing?"

Arron followed after his friend, noticing the look the look the new guy threw at them as they left. Arron wasn't sure what to make of the look, but it put him on edge.

"Merle!" Daryl called, raising his voice up a notch. Daryl didn't really have to raise his voice. The camp was just that small. Even from the other side of the camp, people could hear a whispered conversation from the side they were on, despite the number of faces Arron had seen running about. "Merle! We got squirrels!" Daryl called again, taking off the string of squirrels from his shoulder and dropping them next to the main camps fire. Arron didn't follow his example, instead made his way to his van and set his catch down next to their fire. "Let's stew them up!" He heard the kid finish behind him.

"Daryl!" Shane's annoying voice called as he made his way over. "Daryl, slow up a minute. I need to talk to you."

Both Arron and Daryl turned to the man, wondering what he could possibly want. Under normal circumstances, the guy wanted nothing to do with the 'redneck trailer trash' of the group - the man refused to believe Arron wasn't trailer trash. Though, to be fair, Arron supposed 'trailer trash' was a step up from 'Van trash.'

"'Bout wha'?" Daryl asked, watching Shane walk around him.

"'Bout Merle."

That caught Arron's attention. This couldn't be good. Arron knew how Merle was, especially if Merle had found what he went into the city to get. Arron's eyes shifted around the camp, noticing how everyone seemingly dropped everything they were doing to watch. Apparently, Daryl noticed too, because he suddenly started pacing like a cornered animal. Arron wanted to reach out for him again, but didn't dare do so. Arron has known Daryl for his whole life. He knew Daryl didn't like any form of PDA, even in the form of innocent touches. If the kid wanted Arron's comfort, the kid would come to Arron. Still, Arron knew it would be a struggle for him not to try.

"He dead?"

"Well," Shane paused.

Probably trying to find a way to break the news to him, Arron thought, bitterly. For one selfish second, Arron wondered why they were excluding him from this conversation. Merle was his best friend. Arron shook his head. It didn't matter how this news would affect him anyway. He should focus on Daryl. Arron had a feeling he was about to lose his brother again, and honestly, Arron didn't think he could handle it again.

"We don't know," Shane finished, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Wait, what?" Arron asked, shock running through him and giving away that he'd also been listening.

"What do ya mean ya don't know?" Daryl asked angrily. "He 'ither is or he aint!"

In Daryl's defense, the not knowing part will be the hardest part. Arron was just as angry, if not more, than Daryl, but he knew he had to stay calm. Not for himself, but for Daryl. Sooner or later, Daryl will look to him for direction in this conversation. Arron helped to raise the kid. He knew Daryl needed a constant source of guidance, and, without Merle, Daryl is going to turn to the next one in line for the position: Arron.

"Look!" the new face in camp exclaimed, walking up to stand in their little circle, "There isn't an easy way to say this, so I'm gonna just say it-"

Oh no, Arron thought. If there was ever a time he wanted to face palm, this was it. Daryl didn't take too kindly to strangers, especially male strangers who hold an air of domineering, self-importance. Arron himself didn't like domineering men near his kid, either. Arron saw Daryl as his. The kid was his since the moment Merle threw the newborn at him. Arron made sure Daryl and Merle knew it too. He didn't tolerate people moving in on his possessions. Weather it was human or object, if it was his, he'd kill anyone who dared take it.

Daryl, despite himself, glanced over at the tense man. He wasn't sure if Arron was serious about killing for him, but he knew the man would protect him if he needed it. Daryl had seen him do it plenty of times back home. It was for this reason that Daryl took a step back within Arron's reach when the man stepped forward. If anyone noticed the shift, they didn't show it. The tension between the small group didn't fade any.

"Who're you?" Daryl snapped at the man. Daryl didn't really care who the newbie was. He'd asked purely for Arron's benefit, knowing his protector wouldn't be able to do more than snarl at the guy in front of him. He'd seen Arron act like this before; first hand with his dad, then with his boss back home. Surprisingly, though, Arron never had a problem with Shane, aside from calling the guy an asshole. Daryl had almost thought Arron had grown out of it. He was secretly glad to see it back again. Not that he'd admit that to Arron.

"Rick Grimes," Rick introduced himself, sticking his hand out for Daryl to shake. He could have sworn he heard a snarl from Daryl's friend, but Rick shook it off and ignored Daryl's friend's glare.

Daryl didn't dare take the man's hand. He'd done that only once in his life. When he was a naïve kid, who ignored Arron's telling signs. It hadn't ended well for any of them. "Well, Rick Grimes," Daryl said the name like it was a cuss word, "You got somethin' you wanna tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all."

Arron thought this was the worse way to start this explanation of Merle's absence in camp, but he kept his piece.  
"So," Ricks eye's shifted to the side, "I hand cuffed him onto the roof," the man's eyes shifted back to Daryl, "to a thin piece of metal."

At least, he looked guilty enough; not that Arron wasn't going to get the man back, somehow, for it, later.

"Hold on, let me process this." Daryl turned towards Arron, throwing his arm up to shield his eyes. Arron could practically see the boy telling himself to get it together. Arron discreetly shifted until he was blocking everyone's view of Daryl, telling the kid, with his blue eyes, to pull it together and finish the conversation. All Arron could do was sit back and watch as his kid tried hard not to cry in front of everyone. When Daryl was sure he had all the pieces patched up, he turned back to Rick. "You're saying you hand cuffed my brother to a roof," Daryl was fidgeting back and forth, "And you left him there!" He finally yelled out.

"Yeah." What did someone say to that? Rick wondered, looking off to the side. At least, he wasn't lying about it, right?

Arron thought for a second about interfering. Even just one gentle touch to the back of the kids neck, would turn Daryl into putty n Arron's arms, but Arron knew that face. That 'I'm so angry and disappointed and upset' face. Arron knew not to interfere; else Daryl would never get it out. It hit Arron just then that Daryl had trusted these people to look after his older brother, through thick and thin. Why else would Daryl let Merle wonder off with them?

In truth, Arron had no idea what happen. One minute, Daryl was standing there, in front of him, pissed off as hell. Then, Shane was holding him in a choke hold. It happen so fast for Arron who was focused solely on Rick and Daryl that he didn't remember anything more than flying squirrels. Flying dead squirrels. It was probably the hardest thing Arron had to do in his life. When Arron first decided to taken Merle under his wing, Arron had thought 'Never again.' Never again would his friend suffer at the hands of another. When Merle had entrusted his little brother, not more than a month old, Arron had sworn he'd do whatever it took… whatever it took, to protect the babe.

Arron absently raised his hand to the scar on his cheek, running his fingertips over it with force enough to turn the skin red. He had failed those promises to himself not long after Daryl was born. Their father had had enough of Daryl's crying. If Merle hadn't crawled to the bedroom, locked the door, and scooted Daryl under the bed that night, Arron would have lost them both before Merle could get the call for help out. Arron deserved ever scar on his body for failing himself; for failing Merle and Daryl. But, then Arron had been eight, hardly old enough to block an angry adult from getting to his sons. He had tried, he really had, but it was a failure.

Now, though, Arron was no longer the geeky, dork who fallowed Merle around when he could. He was a grown ass adult, and so was Daryl, he scowled at himself. For once, Arron should let Daryl fight his own battles. Step in when he was needed, he told himself, not a second sooner. It was that thought that caused this situation, Arron growled. Outwardly, Arron's eyes had hardened at the look of helplessness that Daryl had sent him from Shane's arms. Inwardly, Arron was crying in anguish. It was so hard to watch his baby... His adorable little boy, who still played hide and go seek with him even though they both knew he was too old to be playing such games. He saw Daryl's face drop a little in betrayal, and Arron angrily pressed the nail into his scar. The message was clear, though. 'You got yourself into this, you get yourself out of it before I beat your ass.' Daryl knew he'd do it, too.

Finally, Daryl dropped his head with a sigh. "Alright. Alright," he said holding his empty hands in surrender. Good boy, Arron thought, even though Daryl's submission was not what he wanted the kid to do. What could he do? Arron shrugged to himself, Daryl had never been the fighting type, willingly. Arron couldn't change that. He wouldn't change that.

Arron didn't mean to sigh in relief when Shane let his kid go, it just came out. Then, he sucked in much needed air, as Daryl stood up and inched closer to Arron. Arron knew he had the tendency to baby Daryl, Merle was always harping on him for it. Arron knew probably confused the boy, and Daryl was looking to him again for approval. Anything to say they were okay. Arron wasn't surprised by his need to reassure Daryl that. Arron didn't care who all saw them. Let the group see, Arron thought as he reached out, gently placing a hand on the back of Daryl's neck. Let them see how much he loved his baby boy, Arron thought as Daryl virtually turned into mesh. Arron had to think fast, in order, to catch the younger man by the waist, pulling him into his arms and letting Daryl laid his forehead on Arron's shoulder. It had been a long, emotional day for them both.

"Where is he?" Arron growled, most of his attention on Daryl. "Where is Merle? So, we can go get his ass."

Neither Rick or Shane could tell him; both stared speechless at the scene. Arron knew, both Arron and Daryl came off as assholes. The redneck trash that didn't follow the rules, whom didn't care about anything at all, except they did care. They had feelings, too.

Alas, the scene was broken by the female by the RV calling out, "He'll show you."

Just like that, Arron and Daryl broke apart, pretending nothing had happen, and everyone quickly forgot as the argument began.


	2. Chapter 2

_I don't own the walking dead only Arron._

I'd like to thank yall for the likes and favorites. As a small token for your loves, I took the time to draw Arron out. At the moment, the only copy I have posted is on the story cover picture. I checked, you can still see it all but the quote he says. This story isn't unbeta'd, so context clues. I do try to read it over but I usually get bored of reading it after I just wrote it and I'm to impatient to wait a few days to go back and edit then post.

 _~Loner_

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Rick was beginning to regret his decision to sit up front. While Glenn was an excellent conversationalist, Rick just couldn't shake the burning glare that tore into the back of his head the whole way to the city. Every once in a while, Rick would turn around, using the illusion of including T-dog in the conversation as an excuse, and discreetly search for the glaze. His gray eyes ran over the youngest Dixon and his friend each time, but neither seemed to care what was going on around them.

The eldest, Orion or something, was leaning back, left leg stretched out in front of him, hitting his companion with his foot every time they hit a pot hole, while his right leg was bent at the knee and pulled close enough for the man to rest his elbow on the knee. Daryl, on the other hand was leaning subtly into the man next to him, easily ignoring the arm thrown lazily over his shoulders as he worked to keep himself busy shifting though what's-his-name's supplies bag.

Watching them, seeing the familiar air about the two of them, reminded Rick of the close relationship Shane and he had once shared when they were just partners on the force. Only, Daryl and… that one guy- he really needed to get the man's name- shared a slightly different air; like his and Shane's, but somehow mixed with his and Lori's relationship before Carl was born. Every time Rick thought about Daryl and … uh, scar face like Lori and himself, Rick would shake the image from his head and turn toward Glenn again. As soon as his attention was focused elsewhere, though, those eyes were back on him. Damn it. He shouldn't have agreed to let both of them come along. Rick only needed one of them anyway. Why was that Onion, or whatever, even coming again?

Glenn actually thought Rick's behavior the whole truck ride to the city was kind of funny. While the man was holding a conversation expertly well, even recalling information from the start of the ride, it was plainly obvious something was bothering the older man. Glenn observed Rick from the corner of his eye. Glenn liked Rick, don't get him wrong (Glenn liked everyone), but Rick was still new to the group. Glenn trusted Arron, who was probably the second least liked person in the group, right after Merle, more than the young Korean trusted the new guy.

T-Dog was thankful for the conversation. He never really did like quiet drives, disliked it even more nowadays. The quiet gave T-Dog time to think, and T-dog didn't want to think, especially now. Every time he had a moment to himself, Merle's face popped into him mind. T-Dog wondered if Merle knew how much fear the drug addict was showing as the man basically begged T-Dog to save him. It was just a few seconds, but it was enough for T-Dog to see past the mask of anger Merle always had on. Who would have guessed Merle had a deeper side to him? T-Dog's eyes cut over to Merle's two camp mates. Did they know Merle had a human side? It would answer the old question of why Daryl and Arron hung around the old bastard, if they did.

"What about you, T-Dog?" Rick's voice cut through the dark skinned man's thoughts like a hot knife through butter.

"Hm?" T-Dog turned his attention over to the man. "Oh, yeah, sorry," T-Dog stumbled, trying to cover his inattentiveness.

Arron kept most of his attention on Daryl, as he always did. He could really care less about what everyone else in the truck was doing. Daryl had that effect on him. Normally, Arron was observant, catching all the little things people did, all the little lies they told the others, or finding all the secrets someone was trying to hide. However, the moment Daryl walked within his sight, immediately Arron was watching the young man, eyes hardly straying from the boy's body. Arron liked to think Daryl knew Arron watched him, liked to think the boy wanted it, but Arron knew Daryl; had raised him from a babe. The Otaku could say with certainty that Daryl was thick headed. The boy, who saw the world for the reality it was, was an idiot when it came to himself. It could also be the fact that Arron helped raise the boy, he supposed.

Arron didn't have a daddy fetish like Merle seemed so convinced of. Sure, Arron enjoyed a little role play, and, so, most of the girls he picked up had some kind of fetish for having a daddy, or a master, or whatever the hell need they wanted to play with. It didn't mean he wanted to go into the scene life. Sex was sex for Arron. Girls were… decidedly weird, but Arron liked weird… to a point. It took a lot to creep Arron out, either in or out of the bedroom. Anime could force open the mind of even the most narrow-minded assholes, especially if they start young like Arron did.

With Daryl, though, it was so much more than sex. Hell, if it had been about sex, Arron would have already taken his chance and fucked the boy a long time ago. It wasn't like Daryl was very secretive about his crush when he was younger. No. Daryl had Arron wrapped around his little pinky, not his dick. Arron was 'pussy whipped' as Merle put it. Arron would literally be whoever Daryl wanted him to be in or out of the bedroom. If Daryl wanted Arron to be his father figure in a very… platonic way, Arron would be just that.

Though, Arron thought huskily, eyes running down the length of Daryl's figure, I'd really rather it be in the bedroom. The things he could teach the boy. Arron swallowed the saliva that pooled in his mouth, his mind already shifting through images. Absently, Arron wondered if Daryl still hated to be spanked. Maybe, if he promised a treat afterwards the boy would let him?

When he wasn't glaring at T-Dog or Rick or searching through Arron's survival bag, Daryl was watching Arron out of the corner of his eye while he pretended to make sure all his weapons were in order. Well, okay, so he wasn't pretending but that was aside the point. Daryl was watching Arron. The older, probably eldest in the truck, was zoned out again, eyes locked in Daryl's direction. Sometimes Daryl wondered what Arron thought about when his gray eyes glazed over like that. It only ever happened when his pa was looking his way.

When Daryl had first saw that look in Arron's eyes, Daryl had thought it was because the man was getting bored of him. Child hood insecurity helped solidify that thought for long time. Lately, however, Daryl had started to notice subtle shifts in Arron. Literally. Arron would shift very subtly, rearranging his body slightly. The man's fingers twitching as if to grab at something but never reaching for whatever it is. It was almost as if Arron desired whatever he was thinking about, and, it may be just because the man is looking off in his direction but, Daryl couldn't help but think it had something to do with him.

Daryl tried to fight back the heat he could feel raising in his face. He shook the thought out of his brain. Instead, to make his mind off his naughty thoughts, Daryl returned to glaring at T-Dog, this time taking it a step farther. "Better be alright," He growled at the man, shifting his crossbow into a more comfortable position, mostly to hide how uncomfortable he was in the lower area of his body at the moment. Great, he thought, drily, what a great time to give yourself a boner, Darylina. "That's my only word on the matter." Daryl tried to convey his seriousness through his eyes. It was difficult with the truck's constant swaying over the train tracks throwing his bow's hilt into his already uncomfortable lap in a very suggestive rhythm his body was secretly enjoying.

"I told you," T-Dog snapped in annoyance, "the geeks can't get at him. The only thing that's going to get through that door is us."

Glenn slowed to a halt, throwing the truck into park. Fighting the urge to turn the truck back around, he shut off the engine. Turning to the others, Glenn took a deep breath, telling everyone they were there. "We walk from here." Even though he didn't want to, Glenn turned to get out at the same time everyone started to get up.

Daryl was the first one out of the back. Arron followed right after, his right hand resting on the hilt of his katana on his left side, eyes alert for any threats that Daryl may have missed. T-Dog was the last to jump out, not that it surprised Arron any. It may be Arron's vanity and sallowness kicking in, but the man hardly looks like he did much more than eat doughnuts behind a desk somewhere.

Now that he thought about it, what the hell was the black man going to do with no weapon? This was why Arron hated the people in the main camp. At least Glenn knew the layout of the city and wasn't completely useless to the search team. What? Was the guy going to smack the flesh eater with the bolt cutters? Tsh. This guy was a waste of resources. Arron frowned disapprovingly at the man as he followed Daryl. "Of all people they had to take, they take the idiot without a weapon," Arron whispered in Daryl's ear as they walked.

Daryl scowled back at the group over Arron's shoulder, pushing a fence gate out of his way as quietly as he could.

"Merle first or guns?" Rick asked the moment he was through the gate, pausing to turn back towards the search and rescue team as they made it through.

Both Arron and Daryl glared as they turned back towards the group as well. They had kept speed walking, focused only on the fact that Merle was stuck without any protection in the city full of geeks, when Rick had popped the question.

"Merle!" Daryl growled at the man as he swerved around the man, "We aint having this conversation."

Arron nodded in agreement.

"Yes, we. Are," Rick said slowly and with authority born from being a copper. The man turned back to Glenn. "You know the geography," he said as the advanced forward under the bridge, "It's your call."

"Merle's closest," Glenn breathed, huffing in another swallow of air at the end; already tired and they needed to move faster. "The guns would mean doubling back," he pointed out as they jogged, "Merle first."

Not for the first time, Arron wished he had finished that conversation with Merle from the other morning. Maybe if he'd let his balls drop for once where Merle was involved instead of trying to coddle the fucker, Daryl and he wouldn't be in the big city during the Zombie Apocalypse. Somehow, Arron was sure, this was his fault.

They entered the department store together. Stupid idea, Arron thought, but he wasn't the one everyone was looking to for direction. It was clear Rick was the leader of this little outing. He wouldn't be surprised if he became the main camps leader. Arron didn't like the idea of Daryl looking towards the man for instruction. However, watching him throw out easy to read signs, he couldn't help but respect the man a tiny bit. Rick obviously took into account that some, if not most of the group wouldn't know the advanced hand signs, and he obviously had enough logical sense to know to be quiet.

The main camp could do worse, he thought, pressing his thumb to the katana's hilt to release the blade from the sheath. Pulling the blade out slowly to minimize the metal grinding, Arron followed Daryl, careful to keep his steps as quiet as posable on all the broken glass. He paused when Daryl paused to shoot the stray flesh eating asshole in the head. Arron did a quick scan of the store with his eyes, looking for any more that may have been looked over, not trusting the other idiots in the group to find them all. When he found none, Arron slowly raised his hand, pressing the palm to Daryl's lower back, just above his boy's tail bone, giving the young man the all clear. Only then did Daryl move forward to pull his arrow from the Zombie's head. The interaction happening so fast, there was hardly a pause between shooting and moving forward. Most of the others missed the exchange.

Fucking place was empty it seemed, because they made it to the stair well quiet easily after that lone… walker as the fucker named Rick kept calling it. Daryl and Arron worked together like a well-oiled machine, clearing the path every time Rick paused. Boy, did Rick pause a lot too. It got to the point where all Rick had to do is stop and Daryl and Arron were moving forward to check it out. Arron felt a little like the bodyguards to some wealthy asshole or the scout for the king. Every time it ended up being nothing. Every time nothing came up, Arron would get just that much more annoyed with the man. Arron was just relieved to see the door to the roof.

Daryl, on the other hand, was impatient for it to open. As soon as the lock was cut off, Daryl was kicking in the door and running through.


End file.
